The Dweller by the Tomb

– For Talitha –

My life is a mortuary
pressing against my skull
in which no sacrament holds
between these empty thoughts;
and I want to be taken for granite.
Sanguineous opinions
that drain the will from cold lips,
gracile delirium
coming to nothing. Layers
of sulphurous myth
that burns my heart
and I am alone.
The multithread spectre
differing between streams of doubt.
Marble white in stiff melodies
and mutation. Can you see?
I am the ringer to my life.
I throw myself
against the pistons and place
the only hands that held me
into their place as lies.
Depression keeps me company
and it will to the very end. It
will be my breath and breast
as I close my eyes upon this world.
I want to be nothing,
but by being nothing it becomes
when all I want is silence.
The silence of the grave,
as warm and familiar
as life.
I am alone.
Fluent in the desire to stop
the walls crashing upon my corpse
as I walk, day to day,
between shadow and light.
I am the shadow they all see and none touch.
I am the left behind
and empty memories.
I am all they want until I am not wanted
and once again walk in deserts
as spectre and plague.
I see horsemen as they come for me
and I place their noose around my neck,
their knife to my wrists
their barrel to my chin.
I am the digested agony of the pill of life
and I want to suffer no more.
I am the haunted hitcher
who treads in death and gorges,
touched by no living entity!
Take my hand death
and be my providence to promises
never meant, nor kept.
Take me to nothing.
I am alone.



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